Draco Malfoy and the Spirit of the Onyx
by Dean Thomas
Summary: It is the start of Draco Malfoy's 5th year at Hogwarts, and fate takes an interesting twist in his life. Fueled with a deep desire to make a name for himself in the wizarding world, he discovers that there are many different types of treasures as a myste


Draco Malfoy and the Spirit of the Onyx  
  
Chapter 1: The Accusation   
  
"Draco! Dear, it is becoming rather late. Please come down to the parlor now, or you will miss the train to school."  
As the sound of his mother's strained voice wafted up to his bedroom, Draco forcefully stuffed the last of his most prized and recent acquisitions into a brown, flawlessly shined leather satchel. Fastening the brass clasps around the edges, Draco strapped the bag to his chest - the only place he was sure it would be secure. Of course, this modest valise would not be all he would be taking to Hogwarts. Draco laughed indulgently at the utterly ludicrous thought. He was a Malfoy, offspring of a long line of extremely wealthy, powerful, and feared wizards. Copious trunks of his belongings had already been packed and sent ahead (by his many servants, of course) to school so he would not have to bother with them during his long excursion today.   
At that moment, Draco began to feel the repressed dread he had been ignoring all summer crawl up from his stomach into his throat. Another year at Hogwarts with that muggle-loving crackpot headmaster Dumbledore and his favorite student - Harry Potter. Yes, St. Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord, the courageous hero, and stealer of the spotlight. Draco spat in disgust. He deserved to be among his own kind in Durmstrang - a real wizard school where pure-bloods are kept free from mudblood bottom-feeders.  
"Draco, you must come now."  
Draco was violently snapped out of his thoughts. His mother's tone was amazingly more tense that it had been before. It almost sounded like a desperate cry for help. Cold droplets of sweat began to form on the back of Draco's neck as he forced his dark green wizard robes, the color of his esteemed house Slytherin, over his head. Quickly starching his expression into his arrogant sneer and smoothing his hair and robes, Draco lazily swaggered down the lustrous oaken spiral staircase, and entered the enormous and luxurious parlor.   
His worst fears were confirmed when he found his father, Lucius Malfoy, reprimanding his mother in barely audible, but unmistakably sharp whisper. Draco could not believe the fear flickering in her always cold, marble-like eyes. At the sound of his son's footsteps, Lucius turned around, bearing down on his son. His icy, piercing gaze was completely transfixed on Draco. Ignoring his churning insides, Draco kept his outside as stiff and cold as marble.   
To a typical onlooker, the physical resemblance between this father and son was rather striking. Both shared the same pale blonde hair, deathly sallow skin, and granite-grey eyes - all the distinguishing features of a Malfoy. However, the extremely intimidating appearance of Lucius at this particular moment somehow made the physical ties seem to fade. As he loomed over his son, he gripped a large ebony walking staff in his left hand. He always carried this staff with him because it had been a priceless family heirloom for hundreds of years. With its disturbing metal snake ready to strike on top, it also added to the aura of foreboding Lucius secreted.  
"Lucius, please --"  
"Go fetch the servant elf immediately, Narcissa," he responded without a trace of emotion. He waited until not a soul was within earshot before he began to speak.  
"Draco, while you were retiring in your room early last evening, a very unfortunate event took place that should not have." With each syllable, his lips tightened.  
"A raid took place. That repulsive muggle-lover Arthur Weasly invaded, not to mention desecrated my estate with his presence. And," Lucius paused, clenching his already white-knuckled grip on the skull of the staff, "he discovered the safe."  
Draco's blood instantly ran cold at these words. The safe had been the keeper of some of the most powerful and rare dark magic items ever created.  
"Only hours ago, I was facing a severe sentence in Azkaban. Fortunately, my influence resulted in the retraction of the punishment. However, the name Malfoy has been permanently stained, and the ministry will be keeping us under a close watch for a long, long time." Lucius crossed the room, and vigorously slid the curtains closed. Without the sunlight filtering in from the windows, his features appeared to be more cold and hardened.   
"The previously mentioned inconveniences do not seem nearly as important when one considers that we have lost the most necessary items to carry out our mission." Lucius Malfoy rarely ever let his emotionless mask slip, but his voice was slowly rising.  
Turning back to Draco, his eyes shooting daggars, he asked, "Do you understand the incredible seriousness of this situation?!"  
Draco began to respond with a silky "of course," but was unable to fully speak the words before his father interjected.  
"No, I do not believe that you do. Because, if you did, Weasly would have not come into possession of this." Lucius' face was filled with rage as he ripped a crumpled piece of parchment deep from within the pockets of his robes and thrust it into Draco's face. "He would not have been able to make it through alive to our cellar where the safe was stored."   
"Ha!" Draco thought as he picked up the paper which had fallen to the floor. "Didn't he mean dungeon?"  
Draco slowly unfolded the piece of paper, knowing full well what it contained, but feigning ignorance. The sheet revealed a meticulously drawn map of the paths to take in their labyrinth of a chamber miles beneath the floor of their home. Also included on the parchment were detailed instructions of the perils to avoid and the correct spells to use to reach the safe. Any wizard with a shred of skill would be able the tasks with such a complete guide.  
With the presentation of this condemning evidence, Draco struggled to maintain his indifferent air. However, a quick glance at the looking glass across the room showed that Draco's face had somehow managed to become even more pallid.  
"Now," began Lucius as he started pacing in a circle around his son, "How did that idiot Weasley manage to come into contact with the only written record of this information?"  
Before Draco could respond, his mother returned with the house elf, Bomdy. Even though Draco's possessions had already been sent to Hogwarts, it was Bomdy's task to ensure Draco made it to the train alright - at least that's what his mother had always said. Draco, however, had his own theory about the matter. It was most likely their pretentious way of flaunting their vast wealth to the rest of the wizarding world.  
"Son, you had better hurry along now so as not to miss the train," interjected Narcissa.  
His father approached Draco even closer so he could feel his repulsive breath on his face. And, Lucius sneered in a tone pregnant with mockery, "Yes, you had better run along now so you can catch up with your bottom-feeding mudblood friends like Harry Potter and that Granger girl - I mean now that we know where your loyalties truly lie."  
Never in Draco's life had he been more insulted, and this had come from his own father! Not only had he just been put on the same plane as his bitterest enemy, but he had also been accused of being a traitor to the noblest of causes. That offended him the most, especially considering recent events.  
Pretending to be unshaken from his father's unfounded conviction, Draco looked aside toward the house elf and haughtily retorted, "Come, Bomdy, it is crucial that we disembark immediately. Hopefully you'll return without being freed like our last house elf."  
Catching Lucius' contorting face out of the corner of his eye, Draco knew he had gone to far. Apparently, his father was still smarting from the time Harry Potter tricked him into freeing their first house elf, Dobby.  
Lucius' gripped the shaft of his cane suddenly, and reeling back, struck Draco on the side of the face with blinding force. Searing pain exploded in his brain as one of the snake's metal fangs caught his skin, slicing his cheek. The coldness in his father's voice returned as he spoke.  
"Get out of my sight."  
His fresh wound was trickling hot blood down the side of his face, but Draco pretended not to notice. Feigning arrogance, he set his jaw and snatched some floo powder from the golden urn resting on the mantelpiece of their massive brick fireplace.   
Narcissa tried to approach her son, to give him some sort of comfort, but Lucius physically held her back.  
"Draco, wait!"  
"Silence, woman."  
Draco took one swift look back. His blood was boiling in utter disgust at the way Lucius treated them and his mother's constant compliance. Stepping into the fireplace, Draco thrust the ashes downward.  
"King's Cross!"  
With a brilliant flash, Draco disappeared as the explosion of emerald flames engulfed his body.  
  
***  
The pulsating fire swirled about Draco's body, inflaming his anger. Never in his life had his father done that to him before. Oh, without question, his father had given him reprimands and struck him, but never in front of his mother and a servant like a common animal. Fury was flooding in his veins as he clenched his fists.  
Draco stepped out of the flames from a small fireplace into "The Sparkling Wand," which was a homey lounge established especially for wizards that wished to travel to King's Cross by floo powder. Even though it was located adjacent to the train station, there was no need for wizards to worry about being discovered by muggles. It was bewitched with numerous muggle - repelling charms to keep the riff-raff away. Wizards could easily catch the Hogwarts express, and they could relax in the parlor room if they wanted. This way, muggles wouldn't be alarmed if multitudes of strange - looking wizard folk suddenly began to appear out of nowhere in the train station.   
Draco's usual arrogant strut had been replaced with an angry, forceful stomp. The throbbing pain ebbing from his wound was serving as an annoying reminder of the events that had just taken place. Draco was so deeply consumed in his livid stupor, he did not notice people turning to look at him as his heavy footsteps left sooty prints in the carpet. His thoughts were shattered when a small, timid voice was approaching behind him.  
"Master Draco, sir, please wait sir, Bomdy must come with you!"  
The squeaky, high - pitched voice was all together more than he could bear. Draco had completely forgotten that that peon, Bomdy, was supposed to accompany him. He drew in a sharp breath, and quickly spun around on his heel, looking down on the house elf with eyes sharp as daggers.  
"Get out, now. I am old enough that I do not need an escort," Draco responded condescendingly. Immediately, he returned to his fast stride toward King's Cross, hoping to lose the elf. Fate was too cruel to have it, He could hear the soft patter of the bare footsteps behind him.  
"Please, master - " Bomdy begged pleadingly.  
"What is the matter with you? With those enormous ears, one would think that you could hear better! Get away from me!" Draco kicked him forcefully in the stomach like a disgusting piece of garbage he was trying to get off his shoe. He completely ignored the giant tears that were welling up in Bomdy's eyes and splattering to the ground Even though he was doubled over in pain, Bomdy made one last, indiscernible cry in his master's direction, but it went unheeded.  
Draco quickly made his way to the train station, barely noticing the quizzical looks being shot his way by passing muggles. He had completely forgotten he was sporting his wizarding robes and cape. In his haste to fill and conceal the satchel, he had failed to don the customary muggle clothing. What did it matter? There was no reason in existence that he would want to lower himself to their level. He actually began to feel a glimmer of enjoyment as he realized he was the cause of their discomfort.   
He made his way, to and through the pillar between platforms 9 and 10 at the King's Cross Station. This was the only entrance onto the Hogwarts Express train. Draco pushed his way through the hordes of witches and wizards obnoxiously chatting amongst themselves. He stepped onto the last car of the train, and made his way to the most remote compartment.  
"Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy!"  
Draco could hear the grunts and deafening footfalls of his two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle. They were thundering down the corridor, clumsily trying to catch up with him. Draco wanted nothing to do with anyone at the moment, and consequently paid them no heed. He reached the last compartment on the train, slammed the door closed, and locked it. Just to ensure complete privacy, he pulled his wand from his pocket and performed a sealing charm on the door. Those two goons were too ignorant to figure out how to get in, now.  
As he slunk down in the plush red leather seat, Draco could hear Crabbe and Goyle stupidly rattling the doorknob. Draco rolled his eyes as they gave up and plodded away after two seconds.  
Now that he finally had a moments peace, Draco set out to do what had been nagging at his mind since his father's accusation. How did Arthir Weasley come into contact with that map? Draco began to replay the events of the past 24 hours in his mind as he slowly slunk into that mysterious state between consciousness and sleep. 


End file.
